Some Recognition
by Woodswolf
Summary: A former foe realizes the threat, and recognizes that the one they were trying to fight would die an awful enough death anyway. Spin-off series based on Marquis Carabas' Station Sequence.
1. One

_(A/N): I am deeply sorry that this is so late._

_But my last review has been posted, my last review for the Station Sequence, on the first chapter of Wells Street Station._

_The ending was amazingly initiated, entirely enchanting, and easy to predict the events of the After._

_A billion end one way, a million end the other. Simple._

_The Crossroads goes many directions._

_And so, with that, we begin the long and winding road towards the end of the Stormcrow Sequence._

_I can say that this has probably been very scary for you, Mr. Carabas, and that receiving recursive fanfiction is a very surprising, shocking thing. I know from my own experience._

_**Bravo**__, my good sir. I congratulate you on your success._

_The next several chapters of this are in the works, and the Stormcrow's mind's eye will be seeing _much _blood and death and destruction that it wishes upon the world._

_People: if you've read this far, I assume that you've already read Marquis Carabas' Station Sequence, the preceding two books in this series (Lake Toba and New Blood), and my disclaimer. Stop reading, otherwise. You don't know what you're getting into. __**Save yourselves.**_

* * *

I feel things changing around me.

The imprint is weakening.

When will it come undone?

When will I be free?

* * *

Each day, I secretly hope for the beldam to escape, to come and return. I want to prey on the carcass, drink the blood, kill them all.

With time, I know I will.

With time.

But I want it now.

* * *

I itch for the confinement to end. I want to escape just as much as the imprint does, but a different escape from a different thing for a different purpose.

When the imprint's daily jailtime ends, my hunger grows.

* * *

Another one?

One has returned?

When can I kill? When can I?

I want blood!

I need it!

* * *

The friend, the child, I need the information it possesses.

The imprint does not let me get the information. It lets the child rest and waits forever to return for it.

I want to drink it.

I want to see it.

Where is the black tar, the pitch-colored blood I seek?

I pace through the floorboards, searching.

* * *

Chicago.

I must go.

I must go now.

I am thirsty.

* * *

They are taken.

One, two, three!

I see nothing for now.

But I know where we are going.

I want blood.

* * *

_(A/N): Here's a daily thing of creepy!_

_Here's my secret to staying in character in my writings: I slowly, during the duration of the writing, melt into the character._

_I have become much better at my creeper laugh writing this series, I can say. As well as that wild, insane look in the eye, and that good smile that is just a bit too wide._

_No, do not feel guilty… I actually enjoy doing this, strange as it may seem. It is much more fun to be someone other than yourself for a little while, even if the only thing you do is write in a notebook._

_The obsession with blood and death and destruction has stayed at a minimum, although I may press harder into the paper with my pen._

_*Cheshire Cat grin*_

_Now, how about you try and get some sleep tonight?_

…


	2. Two

_(A/N): Well, I've been busy for a long time, trying to figure out what to write for this, how to conclude the Empty Coffin saga, when to become not-lazy enough to write the next Trolling the Other World chapter..._

_Well, yeah, for some of you the Empty Coffin resume is a bit surprising and unheard of since I've ditched it for months, but ANYWAY! I've just been very lazy for a very long time. So._

_Also, cover art for this series will soon be up. I need to figure out which of these cords is the one that connects my digital camera to this computer..._

* * *

While the mind's eye is distracted, looking back at the past of the body I inhabit (it remembers quite fondly something I helped with - the raw fury, the frustration, was inside both of us. We were in synthesis in that moment, and at no other time), I begin to gnaw on the bonds, on the edge of the imprint, wanting to kill it.

That which binds us together shall be our undoing.

That which keeps the imprint in power shall be our death.

Inside the mind, I let loose a growl and laugh, laugh for eternity as I chew on the world.

* * *

The body wakes.

Others are concerned.

The captor comes and asks and is feared and left alone.

Then it comes back.

I retreat into the depths of the nothingness.

* * *

I sense blood and chaos.

There is a loud noise; another and another.

Pained screams.

I see someone I do not recognize standing over one of the captors.

The child runs.

I am forced to follow.

There is no blood this way.

I want it.

* * *

They eat the red, the red and yellow.

I don't know what it is.

I know it is not flesh. It is not blood.

It is not alive, screaming for mercy.

It bleeds fake blood, blood halfway between blood and tar.

The body's senses feed me, so I know it is definitely not blood.

I want real blood. I want the bittersweet, sticky, slimy, blue-black tar.

I need it.

It bleeds for me.

* * *

I feel a mad elation as I receive an idea.

One idea.

One for the blood.

One for the death.

Go and fight, children.

I will prey on the fallen.

* * *

They agree.

* * *

The battle is mine.

The war is mine.

They are tangled up in something I started.

They are my slaves, my soldiers.

They will die.

I will win.

* * *

Go to your deaths, warriors!

You are mine to dispose of!

I will kill you all once he is dead!

* * *

Traitors!

Lies!

Thiefs!

Scams!

For a moment, the future exists before me, in all its glorious shades of red and black.

And then it is gone.

* * *

A cat!

No no no no no no no!

They cannot know! My soldiers must be brainwashed!

I force the body to reject the knowledge it will receive. I bite the bonds, I burn them, I unleash all my fury on them.

Everyone in the room must die _right now._

But luck is not on my side.

* * *

_(A/N): Well. That's this done._

_Now I have a few things to write, a few things to type... *sigh*_


End file.
